Hotel Rooms
by Satan Abraham
Summary: Sharing a hotel room with Collie Parker, Art Baker, and Gary Barkovitch, Abraham knows things have got to get interesting. Bakeraham Parkovitch orgy fluff, Parkeraham first chapter. Twoshot. Lots of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Abraham dropped his duffel bag on one of the two beds. "We're sharing, right, Baker?" Baker murmured his agreement and made for the bed. Parker shouldered his way into the room and looked at the two beds, lifting a corner of his mouth in a sneer.

"Where the hell's number four?" was all that he said, dropping his bag in the middle of the floor and sitting down on the second bed. "If it's the stupid kid with the scar on his face, I'm sharing with you, Abe, fuck your boyfriend."

Before Abraham could reply with some scathing comment about how badly Parker's last relationships had ended, and maybe this meant that _he _was secretly queer, Baker spoke. He was lightly blushing. "It's not McVries," he said. "He's in with Garraty, Stebbins, and Davidson."

Parker snorted. "Glad we're not in the room next to 'em," he said. "The walls are thin."

Abraham grinned and, just then, the fourth person in their room entered. When Baker saw him, he immediately moved his stuff from Abraham's bed to Parker's. Abraham glanced at the door, at the small, darkish figure that had obviously seen who he was rooming with, because he'd just turned around to leave.

"_Barkobitch," _Parker hissed. "Yep, Abe, I'm sleeping with you."

Gary Barkovitch, much unlike his usual self, just rolled his eyes and was silent. _Probably scared, _Abraham though. _Not a guy in here that likes him… well, Baker doesn't actively hate him, but I know he sure as hell doesn't like him._

Wordlessly, Barkovitch flopped down on his and Baker's bed, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV. Abraham glanced at Baker, who shrugged. Well, he'd have to be sharing with Parker instead of Baker, but Parker wasn't so bad, he was Abe's 'best friend', if you would. Better than Barkovitch.

…

After learning about stuff Abraham didn't care enough about to listen to, him and Parker decided to run across the road to the mall for some pizza.

"No, it's _this _way," Parker argued, pulling Abraham toward the 'feminine clothing and Arby's' end of the mall.

"No, dumbass, I want pizza. Arby's sucks," Abraham said. They eventually ended up looking at a map of the mall and realizing that they were both wrong.

And, of course, by the time they got to the mini Pizza Hut in Target, they realized that Parker didn't have any money. Abraham sighed and paid for two pops and two of those cute little personal pizzas, grabbing a packet of fruitsnacks as an afterthought.

"You're buying me Orange Julius tomorrow," Abraham said, his mouth full of pepperoni. Parker considered and nodded, reaching over Abe to steal one of his fruitsnacks. Abraham rolled his eyes and let it slide… and then Parker, who had finished all of his food in about two minutes, grabbed the rest of Abraham's pizza out of his hand and ate it in one bite.

"You're sleeping on the floor, I swear," Abraham muttered, shoving the rest of his fruit snacks in his coat pocket and grabbing his Coke. They could leave the garbage. Why the hell not?

…

By the time they got back to the hotel room, Baker was sleeping and Barkovitch was playing Temple Run on his iPhone. It was eleven-thirty. Parker stripped to his underwear immediately and sprawled out across the bed. Abraham left his T-shirt on to sleep in – him and Parker were close, but not _that _close – and shoved Parker over.

"What." was all Parker said, and Abraham managed to wiggle his way under the covers, though Parker's legs were in the weirdest and most inconvenient position ever. "Hey, hey, you don't get all-"

"I'm taller," Abraham said. Parker sat up, angry and ready to argue. "If you want to blame someone, blame Barkovitch for being our fourth instead of… say… Larson."

Barkovitch gave him the finger, not once looking up from his game. This obviously angered Parker, who got off of the bed – _Thank God, _Abraham thought as he began to get feeling in his left leg again – and snatched the phone out of Barkovitch's hands.

"What the hell are you doing, Blondie?" Barkovitch said, narrowing his eyes. Parker chucked the phone across the room and Barkovitch winced as it landed facedown under the heater.

"Go the fuck to sleep," Parker said angrily, flicking off the lamp and crawling into bed next to Abraham. Parker was warm, and Abraham was drawn to him almost subconsciously. Parker's voice came next, but only in a hiss instead of the normal shout. "_Shit, _Abe, you're freezing."

"No, you're hot," Abraham said. Parker laughed a little.

"Damn straight," he said, and Abe hit him. Parker kept laughing.

"Shut up," Abraham said, but he'd begun to grin a little, too. Parker pushed him, and he would've fallen off of the bed, had it not been for how tangled up the blankets were. He grabbed for Parker, managing to snag his arm. This whole thing would be much easier if Parker was wearing a shirt. "Damn it, wear a shirt."

Parker just laughed again. Abraham managed to use Parker's arm to claw his way back up onto the bed. Once he was up, he just laid there, breathing hard. Parker nudged his shoulder.

"Out of shape?"

"Shut up."

"You better get in shape before basketball season. Sprints'll kill you," Parker warned. Abraham snorted.

"I'll be fine," he said. "We can't all be naturally athletic. I'm too ginger to be strong."

"What kind of excuse is that?"

"A fantastic one," Abraham replied promptly, adjusting his position to be a bit closer to Parker – he really was freezing, and Parker really was warm. Parker didn't seem to mind, either, moving to put an arm around Abraham's shoulders.

This was strictly platonic. Strictly platonic… cuddling. Abraham really hated to use that word, but there really wasn't any other word for it.

"Abe," Parker muttered, half-asleep. "Abe, either get off of my arm or get close to me. I can't feel my fingers."

Abraham muttered an apology and rolled closer to Parker, resting his head on Parker's chest. Parker wrapped his arm around Abraham, and now, to be honest, Abraham didn't give a fuck about how close they were, Parker was _warm._

…

It was sometime later in the night – or, to be more precise, early morning – that Abraham was woken up by Parker's mutterings. He must have been having a bad dream, because he was twisting and turning and flopping and saying 'no, no, don't hit her, fucking bastard, leave her alone…'

Abraham grabbed Parker and held him still, pushing him into the mattress by his shoulders. Parker's legs kicked, and Abraham saw no other choice but to lock his legs around Parker's, rolling himself on top of the blond. Parker still twisted, and Abraham had to really focus to hold him down.

After a few more moments of trying to keep Parker from crushing him, Abe just slapped him across the face.

Parker's eyes flickered open; confused and vacant. They eventually focused on Abraham, who was breathing hard, pinning Parker to the mattress.

"Abe?" he asked. Abraham nodded, expecting Parker to make some sort of comment, shove him off, and go back to sleep, but instead he sighed in relief and grabbed Abraham, hugging him to his chest. "Thank the fucking lord."

"Uh, Parker?" Abraham asked, his voice muffled. "You okay?"

"Fine," Parker said. He was breathing hard, Abraham could both feel and hear it. "F-"

The lamp between the two beds flicked on and illuminated an angry, sleep-deprived Barkovitch. "Could you just _go to sleep?" _he asked. His shout woke Baker, who sat up. "You tell me to, then keep me up all night, because you're practically _fucking _each other!"

Parker let go of Abraham and he rolled off of his friend, getting a good distance away from him. "Collie had a nightmare," Abraham muttered. Barkovitch looked skeptical.

And then Baker was up. "Let's just push the beds together," he said. He wasn't really making much sense, and his speech was slurred, like he was still half-asleep, but he sounded so sure that Abraham shrugged and got out of bed to push it toward Baker's.

After they got everything situated, Abraham flopped down in the middle of the two, Collie Parker on one side, Art Baker on the other.

* * *

**Alright. This is the first chapter of two. **

**The second one will be less Parkeraham and more Bakeraham Parkovitch orgy.**

**Review? **


	2. Chapter 2

The second night in the hotel room, something happened that really changed the course of the night.

Baker got drunk.

Abraham had accompanied Parker to the pool, leaving Barkovitch to huddle in the closet to play Temple Run because apparently the kid had been emotionally scarred or whatever by the fact that they'd pushed the beds together last night on half-asleep Baker's request, and while he was gone, Baker had somehow gotten ahold of some alcohol. And gotten pretty damn drunk.

Abraham suspected Harold Quince had sold it to him – Quince had a reputation for getting ahold of things he wasn't supposed to have and selling them to poor, unsuspecting, innocent students.

The pool had been great – after getting kicked off the slide for pushing each other down it backwards they'd chilled in the hot tub – well, Abraham had chilled, Parker had been less than chill. In other words, he'd said so many curse words the pool started to empty of children. And then at eleven, they'd headed back to the room, t-shirts slung over their shoulders, Parker looking impressive and Abraham skinny and pale.

When they'd gotten back to the room, they were faced with the scene of Baker trying to pull Barkovitch out of the closet, Barkovitch holding onto the closet doors for dear life. Parker snorted. "What's up, Baker?"

"He won't come out," Baker said, looking up at them with such a wide-eyed innocence that, to be honest, Abraham's heart fucking melted. "And I want to cuddle."

Then Abraham noticed the empty bottles, the first few in the trash and the rest… well, near the trash, like he'd cared enough to try to get them in, but hadn't quite made it. "Oh shit," he muttered. Parker followed his gaze and blinked.

"Didn't ya save any for us, Baker?" he asked, kneeling down beside Baker and the absolutely terrified Barkovitch and prying baker's arms from Barkovitch's waist. Baker made a small noise of protest, but stood up, swaying a little on his feet. "Goddam."

"I'm… s- I'm sorry," Baker said, switching that cute, innocent look to Parker. He looked like he was about to fall over any second now.

Nobody could even pretend to stay mad at Baker, Abraham realized with a sort of amusement as Parker's look softened. "Nah, it's fine," he said. "M' dad drinks enough for the both of us."

Baker smiled, and he looked so childish and happy that, once again, Abraham thought that his heart was about to fucking melt. And then he grabbed Parker's t-shirt, which was hanging loose around his neck like a towel, and pulled him down. And kissed him.

Abraham watched, a bit stunned.

Barkovitch voiced his surprise. "What the _fuck_?" His voice was high, near cracking, and he was huddled in the back of the closet.

"I'm with you, Barkobitch," Abraham said. Parker wouldn't mind if he stole his nickname for the little prick. "Uh. Baker. You okay?"

"I just… I just wanna kiss everybody in the world," Baker said, sliding down, still holding onto Parker's t-shirt like reins. "'Cept you Abe. You're too handsome."

"Hey!" Parker objected. "I'm way more handsome than that ginger freak."

"Excuse me," Abraham said. "But ginger freak is standing right here."

"You're not a freak," Baker said, shaking his head overenthusiastically and moving away from Parker to collapse into Abraham, smoothing down his hair. "But you are very _very very _giner. I mean ginger."

"Yep," Abraham said. He was feeling increasingly more uncomfortable every second.

"Well," Parker said. "I think it's time to get to bed."

In one fluid motion he picked up Barkovitch from the closet, ignoring Barkovitch's shriek of protest, and threw him over his shoulder, making for the bed. Abraham maneuvered Baker for the bed, guiding him gently and pushing him onto the bed. Baker latched onto Barkovitch immediately, who looked even more terrified.

Abraham looked at Parker, who shrugged and collapsed onto the bed, stretching his arm over Barkovitch and grabbing Abraham's arm, yanking him down, too. Abraham grabbed the blankets from the foot of the bed and awkwardly covered them all, seeing as his right hand had been the one Parker had grabbed and he had to twist weirdly to get the blankets.

Thank God for the fact that, as well as being ginger, he was left-handed. Two minorities right there, where's _his _free college.

"Alright," Parker said after a brief pause. Baker was asleep, clutching Barkovitch and capturing Abraham's legs with his own in a weird position. Baker sure was flexible. "Who wants to shut off the goddam lights."

"I will-"

"You'll stay right there, closet boy," Parker said. "If you get up this cute little dickhead'll wake up, and who knows what'll happen then."

He reached over and ruffled Baker's hair when he said 'cute little dickhead', and Abraham rolled his eyes. What a weirdo.

"Well," Abraham said. "Your cute little dickhead has me trapped, so it's up to you."

"Fuck you, cute little dickhead," Parker muttered, getting up to shut off the lights. "Well. Night, all of you."

* * *

**short, yes**

**fluffy**

**not sure what's going on**

**but**

**it just sort of happened**


End file.
